Comatosed Crane, Babyon Skin
by ImagineI
Summary: Is all fair in Love & War? Guy and Marian confront their thoughts and eventually eachother. Inspired by the songs My Skin-Natalie Merchant, The Crane Dance-Ludovico Einaudi, Comatose-Skillet and Babyon Feeling-Everlast.
1. Her Skin

**(Story below song lyrics)**

_My Skin_, Natalie Merchant ~ _Guy & Marian_, Robin Hood

_Take a look at my body_

_Look at my hands_

_There's so much here_

_That I don't understand_

_Your face saving promises_

_Whispered like prayers_

_I don't need them_

_I've been treated so wrong_

_I've been treated so long_

_As if I'm becoming untouchable_

_Contempt loves the silence_

_It thrives in the dark_

_With fine winding tendrils_

_That strangle the heart_

_They say that promises_

_Sweeten the blow_

_But I don't need them_

_No, I don't need them_

_I've been treated so wrong_

_I've been treated so long_

_As if I'm becoming untouchable_

_I'm a slow dying flower_

_Frost killing hour_

_The sweet turning sour_

_And untouchable_

_Oh, I need_

_The darkness_

_The sweetness_

_The sadness_

_The weakness_

_Oh, I need this_

_I need_

_A lullaby_

_A kiss goodnight_

_Angel sweet_

_Love of my life_

_Oh, I need this_

_I'm a slow dying flower_

_Frost killing hour_

_The sweet turning sour_

_And untouchable_

_Do you remember the way_

_That you touched me before_

_All the trembling sweetness_

_I loved and adored?_

_Your face saving promises_

_Whispered like prayers_

_I don't need them_

_No, I don't need them_

_I need_

_The darkness_

_The sweetness_

_The sadness_

_The weakness_

_I need this_

_I need_

_A lullaby_

_A kiss goodnight_

_The angel sweet_

_Love of my life_

_Oh, I need this_

_Well, is it dark enough?_

_Can you see me?_

_Do you want me?_

_Can you reach me?_

_Or I'm leaving_

_You better shut your mouth_

_Hold your breath_

_Kiss me now you'll catch your death_

_Oh, I mean it_

_Oh, I need this._

_.com/watch?v=V1LegWs8xdc (put after .com of YouTube)  
_

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Robin Hood, their plot lines or characters.

Author's note: I have purposefully not named G** in this, so when the reader feels Marian is thinking about him it should be the reader's choice or instinct. Thank you and please review if you feel the need to : )

* * *

_Marian's POV_

It was wrong. Just wrong to even think of it… but God it felt so right.

The forest around me was sinking into darkness, the trees to the east gilded by the setting sun, the leaves burning orange in the autumn evening.

In the middle of a forest, I was sitting on a rock. That's what he had brought me to. Complete… failure to care.

The peppery, pungent scent of vegetation, mud and musk sat affably on the air and I breathed in the smell, heartily.

He set all my morals into disarray. He'd tried to hurt and had hurt ones I loved... The flames of that jaundiced night flared in my mind and I flinched as I remembered my father's terrified eyes. I could still taste the sourness in my mouth, the spilling tears, the plunge of mourning as my home had been ruined...

But for all his sins, I couldn't help but think that he wasn't doing it for the shallow reasons everyone blotted him for. He lashed out like a child abused for so long that the capacity for affection was no longer existent.

I pushed a bunch of dead leaves with my green-slippered foot and watched Chalman, my bay horse, nuzzle around the trunks of the trees about two metres ahead of me. He swished his groomed, black tail, swatting a couple of midges that were buzzing around the forest now it was growing warmer.

He'd given me that horse… at first, I'd thought it nothing more than bribery, an unctuous flirtation or payment for my hand in marriage…

But you can't fake that look… that look that says: _I'm trying. Please, give me a chance. Let me look after you. Give me an exit out of this._

Even though he could be foul, there was a side of him begging to be let out… and, God Help Me, my whole being was answering to his calls.

The Lord knew I was not perfect. I had killed people. I had trained myself to do so. I lived every day with the guilt of knowing that, though I had tried not to when I had knowledge of them, I had killed guards who worked for the Sherriff… who had families. Children. Wives. Brothers. Sisters. Each one had a mother, each one a father.

On most cases, I ensured a simple concussion upon combat. But in the heat of battle, one on one, it's self-defense…

Robin didn't understand. Lord help me, he probably had it in his head that I didn't kill. A gentleman he may be, but- shockingly- his ideas on women were not as liberal as thought on first impression. He'd never send Djaq nor I to the front line of any heist.

With Robin, I was told.

With Robin, I was loved and yet I wilted, unappreciated.

With _him_… I debated.

With _him_, I felt... free. This thought amongst all my angst made my eyes sting was sudden, unexpected tears. I did not let them fall down my cheeks, but instead looked up at the high trees and let the water sink back around my eyes. But one stubborn tear slid from the corner of my eye and my heart, constricted and yearning, slid up to my throat in synchronisation. I trembled inwardly and my nails drew in a little on the rock's edge.

A black creature, thin and muscular, had begun to tie knots around odd areas of my body, tying me down from my thighs, wrists, neck, feet...

I needed to fly... and I knew _he_ had the wings. God, I hated myself for thinking so like a...

"_Woman in love,_" my father's voice echoed in my mind. If I remembered well enough, my father had had pity for him not anger.

He had done so many things for me... taken punches from the Sheriff that I deserved, covered my tracks, concealed my alter-ego. He'd actually adapted some of his natural reactions so as not to frighten me... that transformation had been a stunning one to watch.

I'd whispered a million prayers at my bedside, asking any Saint for an answer, a point in the right direction... a kick out of my adolescent fancy...

His body, his hair, his nose, his cheeks, his hands, that leather... those things were arousing, aesthetic and though I was falling for them, a whole new muscle inside of me- one unknown, one unnamed, one so unfathomable that no physician could possible anatomise it or pinpoint its location in any body- was aching for...

Him.

My arm wrapped under my stomach, hand on the scar of the wound that _he_ had effectuated himself. My chest panged with regret and the remembrance of the pain. But…

But it had been in battle and I had been in a mask at that point. I could have been any attacker and he was rightfully defending his turf after the injuries of his men.

That kiss... _I_ had initiated that one... and, Mother of Jesus, a foolish part of me pushed him away. But, admittedly, I had felt in that kiss not him. Not his true self... but I had seen it sometimes, seen the rare glimmer.

I felt so weak and stupid. So embarrassed. What I had with Robin was more than... well, more! But... there it was again, that 'but'.

If I told myself the truth, Robin was more in love with England than me. That's what I felt.

I loved Robin. Admired him. Respected him… Yet for all those words, I was not speechless about him.

I was for…

I bit my lower lip and tucked my brown hair behind my ear, green eyes searching the clouds, lounging purple and navy around the fiery sun, for an answer.

My gut told me all I needed to know. As did my heart.

I looked at the palms of my hands and remembered my inward gasp when he had taken my hand so roughly to show his hold on me to the Lords at Locksley. That ring... was beautiful. It was a warm evening and yet... the flesh of my hands felt cold without his hand there. My waist felt empty, ghostly... non-existent with his strong arm around it. What I had first taken to be disgust in my body was actually fear... hypocrite that I was and am, I coined him for the insensitive one. How wrong had I been.

The sweetness of his conviction. His loyalty... argh, but his loyalty to Vasey, that oily, little wen on England's face. What could he possibly see in the Sheriff? Power... his hunger for that was very unnerving. But, now thinking about it... Robin was much the same: moody and passive when praise wasn't being showered upon him.

_He_ just went to a corner and quietly suffered. I could see him now, eyes hooded by his tired eyelids and hair tousled over his ashen face, clay goblet in his gloved hand, his slouched, sore body clad in the black that so resembled his outlook on the world. Sometimes he brought the axe down on himself. Other times, prisoners or unsuspecting villagers would feel his bitter wrath...

I hated him. A ginormous part of me hated him.

I hated this feeling of vulnerability. I wanted to slap _him_. Wanted to hurt him back. I felt so dirty, though, so unworthy. GOD, I hated _that. _I had hurt him. Deeply. Treated him like he was all that he was on the surface. How naive. How... childish. Selfish. And Robin, charitable, charitable Robin, had let me hurt someone who knew nothing _but_ hurt.

He had tried so hard to change, to become a better man... and I had countered his efforts with an icy slap to his ego and pincer to the heart. Who was the worse one now?

I swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off my green dress and strode over to Chalman. He raised his head and I stroked down his strong nose from the rough hair to the soft, sensitive part above the mouth. I scratched behind his pointed, velvety ear then looked into his black marble eyes…

And I saw his eyes in there, staring right back out. Cold. Hateful. Bitter. But deep, deep in those stormy blue irises, down the tunnel of those pupils I saw neverending passion and kindness. He'd never been loved, so didn't know how to respond to it... Lord, did he know how to be in love?

My eyelids grew heavy with my weariness.

I smoothed my hand up Chalman's reign, put my foot in the stirrup, pushed up and swung my other foot into the stirrup on the other side. Then I dug my heels down, determined, and nudged the back side of Chalman's belly. He started into a small trot and then whinnied as I encouraged him to canter.


	2. His Comatose

**(Story below song lyrics)**

Comatose, _Skillet_ ~ Guy & Marian, _Robin Hood_

I hate feeling like this

I'm so tired of trying to fight this

I'm asleep and all I dream of

Is waking to you

Tell me that you will listen

Your touch is what I'm missing

And the more I hide I realize

I'm slowly losing you

Comatose

I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

I don't wanna live, I don't wanna breathe

'Less I feel you next to me

You take the pain I feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

I don't wanna sleep, I don't wanna dream

'Cause my dreams don't comfort me

The way you make me feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

I hate living without you

Dead wrong to ever doubt you

But my demons lay in waiting

Tempting me away

Oh, how I adore you

Oh, how I thirst for you

Oh, how I need you

Comatose

I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

I don't wanna live, I don't wanna breathe

'Less I feel you next to me

You take the pain I feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

I don't wanna sleep, I don't wanna dream

'Cause my dreams don't comfort me

The way you make me feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

Breathing life, waking up

My eyes open up

Comatose

I'll never wake up without an overdose of you

I don't wanna live, I don't wanna breathe

'Less I feel you next to me

You take the pain I feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

I don't wanna sleep, I don't wanna dream

'Cause my dreams don't comfort me

The way you make me feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

Oh, how I adore you

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

Oh, how I thirst for you

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

Oh, how I adore you

The way you make me feel

(Waking up to you never felt so real)

.com/watch?v=JZNCrLV8W_M (put after )

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Skillet's work nor do I own characters or plotlines from BBC's Robin Hood.

* * *

How exactly was I supposed to react to that? What ploy was afoot this time? What part was I to unknowingly play this time?

I clenched my fists at my side, clenched my teeth too and closed my eyes.

I would forget it. I would forget her hand, so fragile in mine. I would erase the memory of her body _so_ _painfully_ close to mine.

I swallowed and imagined pulling out her scent from my body. My upper lip twitched as I held my breath, trying so Goddamn hard to kick the smell out, to kick _her _out.

Did she think I was _that_ stupid? Did she think I was that easy? That naïve?

My nails dug into my palms as my frustration intensified and I tried to take a breath that did not shake, that did not unveil my…

Weakness.

What was this? _Why_ was this…

Hatred boiled inside me, the heat cursing my insides with burning vices that coiled and choked my guts, my heart, my veins.

If I didn't breathe, would I feel this?

Would I feel this hunger, this starvation, this all-encompassing _anger_ that gritted under my flesh, that trembled when she moved, when she breathed, when she spoke, when she laughed, when she cried, when she smiled, when she argued, when she screamed, when she ran, when she struggled, when she rode, when she ate, when she-

"ARRRRGH!" It all came out before I could contain it. The chair crashed against the door and my muscles pulled painfully in my arms as the wooden slam resounded around the room.

I should be calm, I should put something on over my chest… the chest that grew in pride and protective, instinctive primal instinct when the heartbreak of her nearness came ever closer…

Teasing, was she? Tempting?

"WHAT," I bellowed to… no one. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

To see her leave from my house, once Hood's, then meet _him_ by the stable… was I meant to see that? Did she know I would ensure her safe journey as far as my eyes could see?

I broke my glare at the open window from which I had seen her leave… Hood, on my property, watching her leave on a horse… _The_ horse I had given her.

My fists knocked against my head, fingers splaying and scratching against my scalp.

_Pain._ Pain, that's what I needed.

I grabbed the poker by the burning fire- its flickers quieter than before… were the flames scared of me too?

The weight of the poker was satisfying. The warmness of the iron singed through my skin. I held it harder and glared at the table full of goblets and empty, dirty plates a couple of metres in front of me.

I completely. Let. Go.

"Kill me!" I shouted, sending a clay goblet crashing to the ground. It broke into pieces and I purposefully stepped on them, relishing the sting as they pierced my feet as I whacked a candlestick off the table. It hurtled in an arc to the end of the table then rolled off.

I flinched as the sting of the pottery in my toe sank further than expected. I glared at the wall, anything to hate…

And pushed my foot down. Hard.

I dropped the poker, fingers flexed, hand hungry for something to throw, something to destruct and then let the creature inside me rip out.

Another plate went smashing against the wall.

Silver platter- hurled behind me at the fireplace.

Fork- straight through the window.

Knife… the thought was just too tempting.

Hood's face smiled smugly at the forefront of my mind and my eyes widened, something wild soaring through my system.

I couldn't hurt him. I wanted to. So. _Bad_ly.

"BUT THAT WOULD HURT YOU, WOULDN'T IT!" I roared, slinging another plate at the wall, white pottery cracking and crumbling to the floor… just like my heart had done when she had left me at the devil-fated altar. I stabbed the knife into the table. My hand was empty…

Killing Hood would hurt Marian. Hurting any of his precious little, swooning ducklings would hurt her.

Torching her house had hurt her. My mouth gaped open of its own accord at this though and I blindly reached for the knife and dragged the end over my forearm, not even allowing myself the smallest hiss of pain. Blood, deep scarlet and thick, slithered down my arm, over my wrist and palm and then dripped from my fingertips. I dropped the blade to the ground, throat and body throbbing.

I stood for a while, room painted auburn by the flames, my chest heaving. God this felt good. I blinked a lot in those minutes, the rest of my body rooted to the spot.

Maybe I could just stay here, move only when she bid me to fall into another snake pit; crawl onto another sticky spider web; wander into another dark lair.

She paired me with Vasey. She thought I worshipped him. I was _using_ him- the bastard- to get power, security… something I had done with so much more verve when I had thought of the safety I could had enveloped Marian in.

Flickering images, focused and unfocused, of Marian in that golden dress, emerald eyes to the ground, skin alabaster and smooth, sun reflecting off her body… walking through the blossom, the trees…

It brought me to tears. Hot, they quivered down my face like something molten.

I needed to break something…

Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts…

Then, I wrenched myself from my position- blood no doubt smudging the wooden floor- and blew the door open with one hard yank, pushing past the maid and messenger standing outside the room. I ignored the maid's lustful gaze. She was pretty. She was lovely. She was polite. She was quiet.

"She's not you, though, is she?" I muttered to myself, grimacing madly as I took the stairs three at a time to get to my room.

Straight to my bed- empty, cold, covers emaciated without her form there.

Straight to the chest at the end of it.

The lid was thrown open in seconds and I rummaged beneath the scarlet and cream bed sheets, my bloody arm limp at my side as the other worked, biting the inside of my lip until the masticated, wet skin seeped something metallic around my mouth.

My thumb found the circle of silver and I swear my skin burned against the iciness of it.

I pulled the engagement ring out and something trembled violently inside me, the tremor cascading into the boiling, poisonous potion swirling in my belly.

The metal of the armor on my shin pushed against the chest uncomfortably and I growled, grabbed it and seized it off me and skimmed it to the over side of the room.

My quarters were dark, unlit by fires. Only a navy gloom swelled around me. A lighter shade of blue was cast in through the window- the moon was behind a cloud somewhere, spotlighting this: one of my many manic moments.

And then my body sagged. The ring dropped from my fingers, the green stone creating a hollow sound as it hit the bottom of the trunk.

I loved her. Addicted. I felt so exhausted without her near me that my body sometimes just gave up. So many fantasies of a homely life with her bombarded my mind whenever she was within sight. Her stubbornness. Her care. Her love- oh, that was the worst; when I thought I had it... and then when it was snatched from me.

I wanted to please her. In so, _so_ many ways. I wanted to _love_ her. I would take this pain with me, tie it to my back and let the demon bounce there.

I panted silently as my body recovered from the emotional relinquishment. But of course my heart still beat for her.

I had hurt her too much now, though- had let the wild thing out of its cage too many times. Now I was enemy.

I kneeled and let my head hang, pathetically and the tears were no longer tears- just water spilling from my eyes for her.


	3. His Crane Dance

This is inspired by Ludovico Einaudi's piano piece, 'The Crane Dance' from his album, 'Nightbook'. Please listen to the track, if you can, as you read this : ) Thank you.

* * *

"Would you like anything else, m'lord?" A cold blade to the neck maybe… a noose around Hood's… a riddance of this guilt and the cowardice to hunt Hood… because it would hurt _her_.

"No. Leave." I kept my voice clipped, kept my inward struggles private and glanced at the door to show the footman his services were no longer required.

He took the platter of half eaten food from my table and offered to refill my goblet with wine. I nodded. He poured.

He left.

I was alone.

Story of my life…

How foolish you are, I thought. How spoilt… to have servants, a home, food and warmth and yet…

I felt unsatisfied.

I pulled my black gloves off and examined the small nick of a scar at the bottom of my left thumb, reaching for my goblet with my right hand and taking a swig of the bitter liquid, watching the crackling, terra flames in the hearth.

My eyes blurred as the fire ate its way through the logs, right until my wine had been drunk and my head was heavy enough for some excuse of sleep.

How could I sleep without a drug of some sort? When her tear-filled eyes were strewed across the mental memoirs of that seething blaze of a night…

Her childhood haven, no doubt, torched by my own hand.

What had I achieved?

Nothing.

What did I have?

Exhausted, lame power and wealth; the prize of a village's hate; second place against Robin of Locksley.

Hah- I was the current lord of this domain and yet, still, I was of Gisborne… a place I had never even been. A black lion, roaring silently, adorned the coat of arms… I knew that much.

I sank lower into my wooden chair and felt the heavy weight of my sins purge any slight feeling of pride or strength…

I was weak.

My eyelids began to droop and I was sparsely surrounded by the memory of her sweet smell. I fell into the hypnagogic state that arrested conscious thought, releasing my goblet and letting it tumble around the floor, dropped from my grasp.

Sitting here in the gradually dying heat, leathers increasing the mugginess, I was called to answer tens of questions from my conscience. I justified each one with my reasons and my regrets. The arrows of my bitter, bitter regret always set aim to my heart at around this time of night; just when I had the time to relax and not be Vasey's 'side-kick' or 'crony'.

Her delicate fingers stroked my hand in my imagination and I recalled the firmness and solidity of her body as I had stolen so many holds on her frame…

I recalled the three kisses I had coveted from her soft lips… recalled the dark, unyielding thoughts I had had during those immortal seconds… Of what I could do to her to hear her sigh and pant…

HJer stubbornness, her determination… Her confidence with me, something nonexistent with others around me aside from the Sherriff and, frustratingly, Hood. I could elicit fear from his swooning, outlaw ducklings and from pretty much anyone else… those were things that roused me also…

But she seemed determined to bring down my guard that I had so carefully built over the painstaking years.

Being feared allowed a lot less contact and therefore hurt than open compassion.

I heard my breathing slow, felt my body slouch. The tenebrous feeling of dishonour and wretchedness began to leisurely slither inside me, mercilessly yanking tiny muscles and making me ache from my shoulders, through my chest, stopping to rest on the seat of my guts.

Then, in quick succession, flashes of backhanding her father and watching her hair chopped so savagely; enduring her flinches whenever I so much as brushed past her; the hate in her eyes, always stabbing at me just as I had found I had stabbed her-

The ominous beast in my belly took a bite under my ribs to punish me for that brutal act.

My eyes shot open.

Slumber would not come. Not for all the wine in England.

I pulled myself up in my chair and looked out of the window.

Her face was not there.

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